


Fuzzy Buddy

by imalright



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, i refuse to take responsibility for this, i will not be held accountable for my actions, sylworm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalright/pseuds/imalright
Summary: He’s never seen anything like this before; cradled in his hand, covered in mud and blood but appearing physically unharmed, is a tiny fuzzy worm the color of Sylvain’s hair, fast asleep.“I think I broke it,” he breathes.“Broke what?” Annette asks.“My brain.”Sometimes the dumbest ideas are the best ones
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 39
Kudos: 117





	Fuzzy Buddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feroxai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai/gifts).



> Warning for violence and gore for the first 750 words or so

Things were going so well.

Even to Felix’s standards, things were going well. Their routine training missions had been brutal, coated with blood and misery, with hardly anything to show for it after they returned to the monastery and got a new report of bandits the following day. It was getting more and more difficult to count those fights as victories when they were symptoms of the greater problems afflicting the continent.

But this time actually _felt_ like a victory. For the first time in months they were able to reason with a group of bandits, convince them to change their ways. He’d never seen Byleth speak so much; turns out they’re perfectly capable of conversation, and he and the other Blue Lions were exhausted, but pleased this fight didn’t end in death.

Which is another reason to add to his list of evidence that he’s a fucking moron.

Fuck, things were going _so well._

He tightens his grip around the handle of his sword, stance wide in anticipation of the demonic beasts charging at them. Running would be a waste of time. Panicking would be a waste of energy. None of them have time to plan or get in formation; it’s time to fight or die, and Felix is choosing to fight.

Distantly, he can hear Byleth shouting instructions. He tunes them out; if they need him, they’ll say his name. He swings. The first beast falls, as does the one behind it. He keeps swinging, slashing, whatever he has to do to win and find those pathetic excuse for humans so he can very patiently question them as to how the _fuck_ they got their hands on a horde of beasts.

He fights like he always does; with an intense focus, going through the motions he spends most of his waking hours perfecting. He swings his blade. There’s blood. He swings his blade. There’s blood. He swings his blade.

A shock courses through his body, down his arms and into his fingertips. His grip falters for just a moment, but as he’s painfully acquainted with a moment can be the difference between life or death in battle, and in that moment his blade is knocked from his hands. He readies his fists. The beast in front of him opens its disgusting mouth full of very, very sharp teeth.

He sees red and screams in fury. Then he falls on his ass.

“I thought you trained for this sort of thing?” Sylvain teases, having pushed Felix backward and now standing guard between him and the beast with the Lance of Ruin in hand. Felix scowls. “Dropping your sword. Hah! Rookie mistake.”

“How do you manage to be so annoying during battle?” Felix snaps back. Sylvain just laughs, even as he strains his entire body to push the beast back so he can get a clean hit.

“It’s one of my many talents,” Sylvain says, “It’s very cute and sexy of me.”

“By the Gods, I hate you.”

Sylvain laughs. Felix scrambles up to retrieve his sword and returns to join him. They successfully push the beast back so Sylvain can get a clean hit. An arrow flies from behind them into the beast’s eye. It cries a terrible, high-pitched roar, and it lunges forward.

Felix has had his world slow down far too many times to count. It’s a natural stress response and incredibly advantageous in battle, but it has the terrible side effect of slowing down his body as well. Felix watches in terrible slow motion as the beast’s jaws wrap around Sylvain’s torso and _bite._ He swings his blade much too slow; the damage is already done, there’s blood everywhere.

Felix screams.

From Sylvain’s hand, the Lance of Ruin bursts into a ray of light, blowing the beast’s jaws wide open and possibly off its face entirely, he doesn’t know, he’s not watching that part. His eyes are locked on the light, blindingly red, and from the middle of the eerie glow he can clearly see white tendrils erupt from the lance and engulf Sylvain’s body.

He doesn’t stop screaming. The lance doesn’t care. Sylvain’s body is gone, and the lance remains.

Fuck this entire thing.

He doesn’t hear his teacher and friends yelling at him to stop, he doesn’t feel their hands trying to hold him back. His focus tunnels in on the lance itself, its weird pulsating body and beating stone, and he refuses to accept it. Refuses to accept Sylvain’s just gone. He doesn’t know how he gets there, but he falls to his knees in the mud and gore and he stares. 

And then, because he has nothing to lose, he digs.

And then, because his life can apparently get weirder and shittier, he actually finds something.

“Um, Felix?” A voice he recognizes as Annette says from just above his shoulder, “Is that..?”

He blinks.

He’s never seen anything like this before; cradled in his hand, covered in mud and blood but appearing physically unharmed, is a tiny fuzzy worm the color of Sylvain’s hair, fast asleep.

“I think I broke it,” he breathes.

“Broke what?” Annette asks.

“My brain.”

“What’s going on?” This time it’s Ingrid’s voice that cuts through the fog. “Where’s Sylvain? I thought I saw —”

Someone silences her. There’s whispering.

_“No!”_

“Felix?” Byleth kneels in front of him, on the other side of the fucking lance. He knows they’re looking at his face, but he can’t take his eyes off the weird worm. “What’s this?”

“I think it’s Sylvain,” he says, hardly believing his own words.

Byleth hums. “It’s a lot smaller than Sylvain,” they say. He thinks about punching them.

“I noticed,” he says instead.

“Oh,” Byleth says, “That’s the problem.”

“No shit.”

“Hm.”

Ingrid crashes to the ground next to him, splashing mud and blood onto his already disgusting coat. She grabs his arm and clings.

“Is he —” she chokes on a sob, “Is he really gone, Felix?”

Felix doesn’t know. So he doesn’t answer. Ingrid’s grip tightens.

“Felix…”

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. Her breath catches.

“Y-you don’t know?” she asks, voice tinged with hope. He turns to show her the _thing_ in his hand.

“It’s the right color,” he whispers. 

“Oh,” she says, small and scared. “Felix?”

“What?”

“I think I misunderstood you. I — I know I’m grieving, but I must have misunderstood. What did you say?”

“I think this is him,” he says. He doesn’t look for her reaction. He doesn’t look over his shoulder to see his silent allies exchange questioning glances. He just looks at what he desperately hopes is Sylvain’s tiny sleeping body. Ingrid sighs.

“You know what?” she says, resolute, “I do, too.”

* * *

The march back is long and boring. He and Ingrid walk in silence, side-by-side, with her pegasus trailing shortly behind, each of them staring at the creature in Felix’s hand in turn. Annette and Mercedes each take a moment to look. Ashe refuses, but he announces his choice to believe it’s Sylvain, alive and well, if a little smaller than normal. Whether out of guilt, fury, or apathy, Dimitri doesn’t say anything, and Byleth and Dedue stay by his side at the front of the march, occasionally glancing back to check for any developments.

“Do you think he’s..?” Ingrid asks.

“No idea,” Felix says.

“I’m sure he’s exhausted,” Mercedes says, “He may just need some rest.”

“And a bath,” Annette says before leaning in for an exaggerated sniff. She coughs. “Yeah, definitely a bath.”

“Why did you do that?” Felix asks.

Annette shrugs. “Why not — wait, Felix!”

He groans. _“What?”_

“Look!”

Felix stops short and looks at the worm. It’s hard to see in the shadow of the trees, and it could be the dappled sunlight moving across his hand, but he thinks he knows what Annette saw.

Ingrid gasps. “Is he..?”

“My, my,” Mercedes laughs to herself, “Look who decided to wake up.”

For the first time since finding him underneath the Lance of Ruin, the worm shifts around and lazily blinks its tiny eyes open. They all stand with bated breath waiting for some sign, some confirmation that either they were right or they’re all really, really stupid.

The worm tilts its head up and stares at each person one by one, its face devoid of expression.

Felix decides to be the stupid one.

“Sylvain?” he asks, “Is that you?”

The worm’s attention snaps to Felix. It doesn’t respond.

“Sylvain, if it’s you we need you to tell us,” Mercedes says in her gentle, patient way.

The worm looks at her, then back at Felix, then back at her. Then it lays down flat and wiggles its fuzzy tapered tail in the air. 

_His_ fuzzy tapered tail in the air. The tension in the air fades away and they all breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Goddess,” Ingrid mutters. She begins walking again and everybody follows, now significantly behind Dimitri, Dedue, and Byleth. “I don’t think I could handle losing him again.”

Felix silently agrees.

“You must be exhausted,” Annette says to worm Sylvain. “Go ahead and go back to sleep, we’re going back to the monastery now.”

Worm Sylvain curls up and closes his eyes. Felix tries not to think about how disgusted Sylvain would be if he knew he was laying in a pile of gunk and sets him in his mostly clean breast pocket to sleep the remainder of the journey. 

“I still think this can’t possibly be real,” Ingrid whispers to him, out of earshot of Annette, Mercedes, and Ashe who hurried ahead to catch up with the rest of their group.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he admits.

It’s night by the time they return to the monastery. Normally Felix would collapse in his bed and deal with the mess of his dirty clothes and boots in the morning, but right now he’s driven by guilt and regret for his own stupid weakness and instead he stays up until the early morning cleaning his clothes, his ass, and gently washing the remains of their battle out of Sylvain’s fur. 

“You look real stupid like this,” Felix tells him after gently setting him down in a makeshift worm bed on his desk. Sylvain curls up on top of a used whetstone and closes his eyes. 

* * *

The morning doesn’t make any more sense than the day before.

“You’re… a worm,” Felix says.

Worm Sylvain wiggles. Felix assumes that’s an affirmative.

“Right,” he says, distinctly aware this is very much so _not_ right. “Uh, how do you feel?”

Worm Sylvain wiggles.

“I understand.”

He doesn’t. But he thinks he knows someone who will.

“That’s what I got,” he explains after breakfast. Worm Sylvain wiggles in the palm of his hand. Annette stares at Felix. He gets the distinct impression she thinks he’s very, very stupid.

“I understand,” she lies.

“You’re lying,” he says.

“So?”

Worm Sylvain wiggles.

“Lying doesn’t help anybody,” Felix says, conveniently ignoring his earlier crimes.

“Fine! I guess I just won’t help you!” Annette snaps. “Good luck fixing your boyfriend!”

“Boyfriend —?!”

“Oh, as if we all don’t know —”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about —”

_“Children,”_ snaps a familiar voice, “Stop arguing, you’re adults.”

Felix twists around to see Lysithea stomping up to them. He refuses to back down. 

“Sorry,” Annette says. He backs down.

“Whatever,” Lysithea says. She nods to Worm Sylvain and asks, “Have you figured anything out yet?”

“No,” Felix says, “That’s why I was talking to Annette.”

“Hm.” 

“Do you know anything?” Annette asks, voice hopeful.

Lysithea shrugs. “No, but I’m positive we’ll figure something out.”

Worm Sylvain wiggles.

“How?” Felix asks. Lysithea doesn’t bother answering him; instead, she grabs his other hand and drags him. Annette follows close behind. He’s somehow not surprised when she brings them to Linhardt sleeping in the library. 

“Hey!” she says, knocking on Linhardt’s head, “Wake up.”

“Nnngggghhhhhhh,” Linhardt says.

“I said wake up!”

He lifts his head slowly. “Why?”

“Felix is here,” Lysithea says as if it’s an answer. Apparently it is. Linhardt sits up and rubs his eyes.

“Ah,” he says, “Did he bring Sylvain?”

“Yeah,” Felix answers.

“Great,” Linhardt says, “Then we can —”

“Is Felix in here?” The door bursts open and Felix turns to see Ingrid haloed by light, panting and exhausted. 

“No,” Felix says.

“Shut up,” Ingrid says, “The professor is looking for you.”

Felix opens his mouth to respond but he’s rudely cut off.

“Good, you’re here,” Professor Byleth says. They pass Ingrid in the doorway and stride up to him. Seteth follows close behind. “I wanted to ask you about Sylvain.”

Felix rolls his eyes and raises the hand holding Worm Sylvain. He wiggles.

“Perfect,” Professor Byleth says, “Any changes?”

“Nope,” Felix says. 

“Ah,” Professor Byleth says.

“I feared that would be the case,” Seteth says, scratching his chin, “But that doesn’t mean the situation is hopeless.”

“I would hope not,” Linhardt mutters. Seteth ignores him.

“We are here to offer assistance,” Seteth says instead.

There’s a pause while everybody considers their options.

“What do we even do?” Annette asks, breaking the silence. Professor Byleth answers.

“What do you think, Seteth?” they ask. Everyone turns to them and stares, including Seteth.

“Why in the world would you ask me?” he says, voice dry.

Professor Byleth shrugs. “I mean, you know all about that stuff, right? Like, ancient beasts and dragons and stuff?”

Seteth stares at them. Worm Sylvain stares at them. Felix stares at them. They turn their head around the room, taking in each confused face one by one, and Felix watches in slow motion as understanding dawns on their face.

“Oh, haha, I mean, whaaaaaat?” they say smoothly. 

“Professor —”

“I mean, why would you know about that?” Professor Byleth cuts Seteth off with an awkward laugh, “That would be silly, haha. I must be getting sick. I’m probably —”

Seteth drags Professor Byleth out of the library. Felix thinks he hears them get murdered. He’s not sure. They don’t come back.

After awhile Ingrid speaks. “Well,” she says, “That wasn’t helpful at all.”

Everyone grunts in agreement.

“Moving on,” Linhardt says, “Let’s try and fix this.”

They all sit around the same table littered with open books and haphazard notes. Worm Sylvain tries to help. Felix also tries to help, but he’s significantly less helpful than a tiny fuzzy worm. 

The morning passes, Mercedes brings them lunch. The afternoon passes, Mercedes brings them dinner. The evening passes, Mercedes brings them cookies. Felix isn’t awake for the cookies, though; Felix has fallen asleep.

Someone shakes his arm and Felix jerks awake.

“Whaddisit?” he slurs out.

Lysithea cackles. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so out of it.”

He glares. Or tries to. Her laughter isn’t reassuring.

“What Lysithea’s trying to say,” Linhardt says, much more awake than Felix, “Is Sylvain seems to have been transformed into an ancient beast by the lance. His brother was transformed as well, correct?”

Felix stares at Linhardt. “The beast Miklan turned into was a lot different. There wasn’t any Miklan _left.”_

Linhardt nods. “But Miklan didn’t have a crest.”

A pause.

“...No,” Felix says, “He didn’t.”

“With different variables it stands to reason that they wouldn’t turn into the same creature,” Linhardt explains. He shoves a book toward Felix. Sylvain is relaxing on the page next to a diagram of a nearly identical fuzzy worm. “The beast he’s taken the form of is ancient. It was known for its hypnotic qualities.”

“Not very hypnotic if you ask me,” Ingrid mutters. Felix silently agrees.

“Okay,” he says, “So what do we do, then?”

Linhardt points at something near the nose of the worm in the diagram. “We must look at the ways they differ. Do you see this?”

Felix narrows his eyes. “The squiggly line?”

Linhardt taps his finger against the diagram. “Exactly,” he says, “The beast is specifically known as a worm on a string.”

Silence.

“But… he’s off the string,” Annette whispers, “What will he do?”

“That may be the piece we’re missing,” Lysithea says, “Maybe we just need the string.”

“That doesn’t make any sense —” Felix starts, but he’s not allowed to continue.

“It’s worth pursuing,” Linhardt says. Felix groans.

“That’s not going to fix anything —”

“Shut up,” Lysithea says, “You don’t know anything.”

“Fuck you.”

“You don’t even know any good insults,” Lysithea says. Felix doesn’t have a response for that.

“Anyway,” Linhardt interrupts. Lysithea and Felix turn to look at him. “I think we should get the stupid ideas out of the way first. Let’s tie a piece of string to his nose.”

Silence.

“What?” Felix says.

“What?” Lysithea says.

“What?” Annette says.

“What?” Ingrid says.

Wiggles, Worm Sylvain does.

Linhardt shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“That sounds like a massive waste of my time,” Lysithea says.

“Or it could work,” Linhardt says, “And everything else would be a massive waste of our time.”

“That’s not going to work,” Felix says.

“None of this should work,” Linhardt says, “And yet here we are. Unless you have any other ideas..?”

Nobody responds. Linhardt picks up a piece of string nobody noticed before.

“Did you have that this entire time?” Ingrid asks.

Linhardt nods.

“I hate you,” Lysithea says.

Linhardt nods.

“You know what?” Felix says, “Fuck it. Whatever. Tie a fucking piece of string to his nose.”

Linhardt grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Felix no longer thinks this is a good idea.

“Wait —” he begins, but Linhardt can’t be stopped; he ties the string to Worm Sylvain’s worm nose and they wait. The air is tense and heavy. Everyone stands still in anticipation.

Nothing happens.

“Ah well,” Linhardt sighs, “It was worth a shot.”

Worm Sylvain wiggles around and shakes the string. If Felix didn’t know any better he’d think Worm Sylvain was having fun.

Then Worm Sylvain does something very Sylvain.

He cracks the string like a whip.

And a few things happen at once.

A crack much, much louder than anyone expected echoes in the library, bouncing off the walls and the shelves and leaving Felix’s ears ringing.

A small explosion comes from the crack; hot smoke blows against Felix’s face, pushing him back and onto his ass on the floor. He hears Lysithea land on the floor next to him with an _oof!_

And, when the smoke clears just as quickly as it appeared, in the middle of it all is a familiar figure with familiar stupid hair and a familiar stupid grin.

_“Sylvain!”_

Ingrid is the first one to scream and engulf him in a hug. Felix stands back from the crowd as everyone else follows, piling on until the only evidence that Sylvain is no longer a tiny worm is the small shock of red hair peeking out from the middle.

“Whoo!” Sylvain cheers from the center, “I can talk again!”

“I’m already regretting this,” Ingrid groans. Sylvain laughs.

“I know you missed me,” he says. Everyone steps back and Felix is able to see a very naked Sylvain. His face goes hot and he looks away. Everyone else seems to have already noticed; they’re looking anywhere else. From the corner of his eye he can see Sylvain pick up a book and cover his dick.

“Do we have any clothes?” Ingrid forces out.

“My bad,” Sylvain says. He doesn’t sound concerned.

“I didn’t consider this outcome,” Linhardt says.

Felix, an adult, forces himself to look at Sylvain. He’s looking around for something, running his hands over the table and checking under himself. He lifts his asscheek and seems to find what he’s looking for; he lifts the limp worm body to his eyes and furrows his brow in thought. 

“I’m gonna try something really stupid,” he warns.

“Can’t be stupider than tying a string to your nose,” Felix says.

“I think you’ll be impressed by how stupid I can be,” Sylvain says before pulling his arm back and whipping it forward, snapping the worm body against his thigh. Felix watches in disbelief as the tiny worm body wraps around and meets itself on the other side, forming a furry orange garter. He doesn’t have the opportunity to admire this incredibly stupid accessory before his clothes appear in a flash of light. 

“I can’t believe _that_ worked,” Linhardt mutters.

“Can’t believe what worked?” Annette squeaks, “Is it safe to look?”

“Yeah, it’s safe,” Felix says. She uncovers her face and claps her hands.

“Yay!” she cheers, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too!” Sylvain also cheers.

“Great,” Felix says, “Now that I’m not babysitting you anymore I can go train.”

“Aw, Fewix,” Sylvain says in an aggravating baby voice, “Thank you for taking cawe of me.”

“Stop talking like that,” Felix says. Sylvain laughs.

“Anything for you,” he says. Felix’s heart pangs. He looks away.

“Whatever,” he mutters.

Unfortunately, by looking away, Felix left himself open to attack. Felix flinches as Sylvain jumps off the table and pulls him into a hug and, unless he’s very mistaken, presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“I mean it,” Sylvain says, voice soft, “Thank you.”

Felix groans under the pressure of this whole emotions thing and returns the gesture, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s torso as loose as he can get away with. Sylvain only squeezes him tighter.

“This made me realize some things,” Sylvain says. His voice is hardly a whisper, meant only for him and nobody else in the room. “Let me take you out.”

Felix refuses to pull back even though his shock is demanding him to run. “What.”

“Please?”

Felix sighs. The image of Sylvain disappearing in ropes of light, finding him covered in mud and guts and panicking over his sleeping worm form flashes through his mind. 

This wasn’t something he thought about in the last 24 hours. The panic of restoring Sylvain was all he really thought about, save for Annette’s embarrassing boyfriend comment. It’s a terrible idea, anyway. He knows this. 

“Sure,” he says anyway. Sylvain holds him tighter and he swears he feels him smile against the top of his head.

“It’s a date,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a raffle fic for [bird!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai/pseuds/Feroxai) Yay!
> 
> So I turned to my wife and asked what the dumbest way for sylworm to turn back into sylvain was and she suggested the awful slap bracelet garter and then she proceeded to explain the entire plot of tokyo mew mew. Stay tuned for felix is an awful space villain love interest 
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/punchyfakegamer)


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